


From the Start it Was All Meant to Be

by Saku777



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saku777/pseuds/Saku777
Summary: Prussia always hopes for something more, Russia thinks it's useless to want what is impossible, but both cling to what they have, even when it is nothing but the whisper of a memory.A fic for the Hetalia discord writer's otp event using the prompts "fate" and "do you trust me."





	From the Start it Was All Meant to Be

1817

It had been a beautiful wedding and the festivities continued for some time afterwards. Of course Prussia took full advantage of the fact. Even if she was not marrying an heir to the Russian throne it wasn’t every day a Prussian princess got married. He was happy for little Charlotte too, since the last time he spoke to her she seemed so happy and so in love with Nicolas. That was good, it would make things easier for her at least. That had not been their final good-bye, that would come later when it was time for him to leave. However it was their final in depth talk and there was something bittersweet about it for he had a unique fondness for the children of his beloved dead queen Louise.

It was not the time to think of such things though, it was the time to enjoy himself and to indulge in dancing, gossip, good food, and drink. As he was recovering from his latest dance he felt a presence behind him and turned around, it was Russia.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me to attack me you should know you can’t woo me like that at little Charlotte’s party,” he said with a sly looking smirk.

Russia raised an eyebrow. He didn’t really understand what Prussia was getting at, or that he was seriously flirting with him. Still he found his behavior amusing, though mildly irritating as well.

There was no need to attack him, Russia thought, were they not allies? “I had no intention to, do you not trust me?” Prussia’s smirk widened, “No.” Then he gave a quick wink, which confused Russia further, though he knew there was some jest involved so a small smile appeared on his face.

“It seems the feeling is mutual.”

Prussia got closer, almost leaning into Russia’s face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Before Russia could do anything about this or even register how close he was Prussia backed away and in a more serious tone said, “But seriously, take care of Charlotte ok? She’s a good girl, like her mother. Maybe a bit more simple but she’s still fun and she’s got a good heart and a good head on her shoulders. She shouldn’t be a problem and I’m sure she’ll make Nicolas a good wife.”

The concern was such a turn around from before so it surprised Russia, and also, though he wouldn’t fully admit it, slightly touched his heart. He felt the same at times towards the grand duchesses who were married off. He thought it was never good to be too attached, but he had met Louise briefly a few times and agreed she had been an exceptional woman. Given her early death no wonder Prussia held her children dear.

“She is called Alexandera Feodorovna now…but I shall. Given this involves someone other than yourself, someone that my prince adores very much you can trust me on that at least.”

Prussia smiled a little, “You got me there.” By now he was in a pensive mood and his face betrayed that. His usual smirk was gone and was replaced with a more thoughtful and serious expression. Prussia didn’t notice this, but Russia did. Despite himself he unwillingly thought for a moment that Prussia was almost handsome, but that his horrible smirk and worse mouth and personality ruined everything. Troubled by this that thought was quickly whisked away and tucked into the recesses of his mind.

“It’s nice really, how taken they are with each other. Let’s hope it lasts,” Prussia said.

Russia nodded, “It is nice, it was almost at first sight. Do you believe in fate?”

Prussia shuddered and turned to him, what a horrible word. “No.”

-

Years later when Alexandra and Nicolas became tsar and tsarinia of Russia he turned to Prussia again and asked him the same question. Once more Prussia said, “Of course not. Just cause Alexander I died doesn't mean it was fate. People die of typhus all the damn time.”

The subject was then changed and the coronation continued. However Russia noted a tinge of fear in Prussia’s eyes and a thirst for something, it unsettled him greatly.

He wasn’t wrong. Prussia greatly feared the concept of fate. If there was anything he craved it was control, to be in charge of his own nation’s destiny and path, to move forward and advance and grow powerful with no restrictions. Fate hemmed him in and made him subject to powers greater than himself with no choice or way to change what would be, a notion that left him powerless and helpless and all his efforts for naught. Prussia wanted to grab life by the hand and bend it to his will, Prussia wanted to make his mark in the world and make him and his people great in order to survive and live. Fate played no part in his plans.

Russia meanwhile greatly believed in the idea of fate, and although he wanted power to protect himself as well, was much more fatalistic. To him Prussia’s response was horribly western and terribly arrogant. Yet, there was something admirable in that thirst and fire that Prussia had. He enjoyed watching it and a part of him hoped it would never be quenched. “Perhaps you are right in that matter. I hope Nicolas shall rule well, but we’ll see. Oh and my trust in one matter has been kept. Alexandra Feodorovna is well, though she told me to tell you she misses you, her homeland, very much.”

In that moment Russia was terribly surprised once more, for a warm nostalgic smile crept upon Prussia’s face and there was a tenderness in his eyes. For a moment he once again looked handsome, but then it quickly passed.

-

1989-

Years later both Alexandra and Nicolas were dead, and the monarchy for both Prussia and Russia had long passed as well. Prussia was gone too, yet the personification that had once been Prussia remained, grasping to life and becoming something else, changing his skin as he had done before and becoming the German Democratic Republic.

Russia had not wanted him dead, as furious as he was with him ,and watched with cautious amazement as he continued to live and to thrive against all odds. It seemed the GDR truly had put a choke-hold on fate and he was both captivated and saddened, for it came at a terrible price; to be reduced to a deranged shadow of his former self, a pathetic figure desperate for recognition and a second chance. In the end though he deemed it needed for it benefited him and his people, and they came first.

By the 1980′s Russia mused that fate had caught up with both of them and both of them held a disgust towards themselves, towards one another, and towards the ideology they no longer truly believed in. Neither recalled their previous conversations, but once again Russia thought of everything in the past century and bitterly considered it both their fates.

It was a classic tragedy, their hubris had brought both of them down, he thought, as he looked at the city of Moscow. Then he turned to the GDR who was smoking a cigarette and nursing a large bottle of vodka. He looked like a wreck, but Russia knew he did too.

The GDR certainly felt like a wreck, but refused to admit it as he felt the people’s anger and his own simmering in his heart, feelings long denied and locked away.

“Do you think all this has been fated?” came Russia’s piercing question. As the GDR looked at him he had the eyes of a desperate caged animal and few rasping coughs came out. “No, he said. “Don’t talk bullshit. There’s no such fucking thing. I’ve survived on my own and I’ll keep living no matter what I have to fucking do.”

“What about what your people wish?"Russia asked, it was a question directed at himself as much as it was towards the German Democratic Republic.

However he didn’t see that and glared at him again, his heart torn in many different directions. “Like I said shut up, why the hell should I listen to you? I don’t trust you.”

Russia smiled softly, that spirit was still there, corrupted as it was. “You never have, remember?”

The German Democratic Republic did not wish to remember the past as of yet, but he knew he had to eventually. A hollow laugh crept out, “I guess some shit never changes then.” But more would change drastically in the coming months, though they knew it not.

-

2018-

Several decades later since those changes had come to pass they stood in the former Winter Palace in St Petersburg, now the Hermitage Museum. It was closed for maintenance for the day and Russia had taken that as an opportunity to visit the museum at his leisure without the crowds so often filling it.

Since he could have some sense of privacy he decided to treat Gilbert for once and take him as well. The two of them walked in its vast gilded halls, and as they did and viewed the objects of days past they were steeped in thought and feelings.

In that moment Gilbert partly wanted to ask Russia if he missed it, if he missed being an empire, if he got the feeling he himself always got when he visited the Sanssouci, but he decided not to. It simply wasn’t the same, even if Russia did miss it he could never understand the hollow empty feeling in Gilbert’s soul, that terrible aching feeling of longing he always had. He himself often refused to acknowledge it. It was simply too painful. To no longer have a people, a land, a nation, that was him.

“You look unusually serious. Are you thinking about something?” Russia asked, secretly thinking Gilbert handsome in that moment and feeling slightly flustered in his secret heart at his internal acknowledgment of that feeling.

“It’s nothing,” Gilbert said. They both knew he was lying.

“Are you sure?”” Russia asked.

Gilbert nodded, “”Yeah, you trust me?”

Russia snorted and said, “Of course not.”

Gilbert then smirked and gave Russia a slight press on his foot with his boot which Russia returned in a slightly harder fashion. “Same here and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gilbert said.

They continued walking onward till they went to a room which had once upon a time held people dancing gaily amid music, laughter, and light. Now it held simply painting and the memories of two beings centuries old.

Gilbert turned to Russia and said, “”Hey remember when little Charlotte got married and there was this really kickass reception here and remember that time a few months afterwards there was this ball and she missed me so much I even got my self invited cause she requested my presence. Bet you didn’t expect to see me, huh? Bet I took your breath away with how dashing and hot I was.” He was partly joking, but he was also flirting and cemented that fact with a sly grin and a playful wink.

Russia turned his face away slightly, but the vaguely amused look on it and the slight blush coating his cheeks was evident. “Of course I wasn’t surprised. She told me, and you looked terrible.”

Gilbert pouted, “Nice joke, but I know the truth. Anyway thinking about balls…you sure no one’s here?”

Russia nodded, “I’m quite sure. I wouldn’t have taken you otherwise.”

“Because like a fair maiden you’re embarrassed at being involved with someone so sexy I see!”

Russia snorted, but Gilbert ignored that and kept talking. “Anyways, since there’s no one around I figure what’s the harm if we pretend it’s how it used to be and that we’re at a ball. Since it was the 1800′s we never did get to dance together. Isn’t that sorta like a missed opportunity we can make up now if we pretend hard enough?”

For a moment Russia was surprised, but then a nostalgic almost tender look came into his eyes. His voice remained impassive however as he said, “I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt. It’s a pity there’s no music.”

“Want me to hum?” Gilbert asked.

“No,” Russia said bluntly. Anything but that, he thought.

“Fine, but you’re missing out. I’m amazing at it,” and then they took one another’s worn rough hands and began their dance. It was a simple waltz wordlessly agreed upon by both and while Gilbert attempted to lead he was quickly beaten in his efforts by Russia who was taller and had more leverage. He grumbled but the two kept dancing, keeping rhythm to the remembered melody of times past in their heads.

Gilbert was filled with nostalgia as he recalled candlelit ballrooms, floating gowns of long dead women, and the light and laughter of times passed as people danced wildly into the early hours of the night and people talked and gossiped and drank, nobility all thronging around the great room. He missed it, he missed it desperately. It would never return and he would never have the chance to expedience it with Russia or dance with him again. He was lost forevermore, a shadow of the past, a ghost dancing in a memory.

Russia too was nostalgic, but he had life and a future before him. Even so he was lost too, looking back yet forgetting always and knowing he would never get this chance with Gilbert again, and no matter how hard either pretended it could never be as it was. Even the Prussia he loved was simply a memory, he had died long ago. He wasn’t sure when, perhaps in 1947 or perhaps in 1990. All he knew was the Gilbert before him was a broken whisper of the being he still loved, an ember that sputtered every so often where there was once a roaring flame.

Decades later some time after Gilbert’s death on one grey winter morning Russia visited his grave in the bone bare forests near Kaliningrad and thought to himself, ”Yes, this was fate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Charlotte of Prussia or Alexandra Fedodovorna was the daughter of Queen Louise and King Frederick William III of Prussia. She married Nicolas Pavolich of Russia, who was later Nicolas I and became tsarina of Russia after his elder brother Alexander I died in 1825.


End file.
